


No Good Deed

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Spring Challenge (2014) on Mag7Wrimo, as well as a composite of three Mag 7 Daybook Bingo card prompts: Lacerations/knife wounds, any/any "a closed mouth gathers no foot", and "mistaken identity"</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the awesome Dail and Jojo for beta-reading on short notice! All mistakes my own.

"If you had kept your mouth closed," Chris said sharply, cutting off the stream of complaints, "you wouldn't be in this mess."

Ezra's eyes narrowed as he glared at Chris, but he didn't say anything else, which was, as far as Nathan was concerned, a relief. It was hard enough to stitch up a knife wound, especially one this long and deep, when the patient was unconscious. And Ezra was anything but that, damn it all. 

He drew a deep breath, focusing on where he needed the needle to go next. The thread was as fine as he could find, some he'd ordered from a medical supply company, but it still required a needle to draw it through, a needle that could pierce the thin skin far enough from the slash not to tear at the pressure of moving muscles. 

As he sighted on a spot not too close but not too far, Ezra, of course, spoke. "If I had kept my mouth closed," he said, his tone low and hard, "then Mr. Tanner might be half way to Tascosa now. It would seem that you would appreciate my attempt to keep him safe."

"Be still," Nathan said, distracted, as he tried to hold the wound closed. Blood was again dripping down Ezra's back, the stain of it spreading along his white skin and the towel Nathan had wrapped around his waist. 

"You didn't have to lie like that," Chris said shortly, taking a step forward. "You could have told 'em he was off in Eagle Bend, then told me or Buck what was going on – you didn't have to pretend that you were him!"

Nathan had the needle just at the right point, the tip of it coming in close, ready to puncture the skin, when Ezra flinched, his body tightening and, worse, straightening. Nathan barely drew back his hand as Ezra snapped, "I had the chance to keep them from continuing to look for him. Had I told them that he was elsewhere, they would have gone off and come back! This way, I could take care of them right here and now, so that not only Vin, but the rest of us – you! – would not have been looking over your shoulder at every strange person riding into town."

"Ezra," Chris said, his hands coming up and resting in the air between them, hovering as if he wasn't sure what to do, "if you had told us, we could have gone after them and stopped them - "

"Legally?" Ezra cut in. "They were bounty hunters. They had a right to look for - and take - Vin. You had no legitimate right to stop them." He drew another breath, his body moving under Nathan's hand.

"Y'all about done with this?" Nathan said, finding his own temper. "I can't keep sewing this up if you two are gonna go at each other like dogs." He drew a deep breath, trying to diffuse his frustration. "Either one of y'all talked to Vin? You might want to think about how's he doing. Or how Buck's doing."

He had a few seconds of blessed quiet, giving him a chance to get another stitch in. Ezra tensed as the needle went through, but he didn't move. And he didn't talk. 

As Nathan tied off the stitch, it was Chris who finally spoke. "Reckon Buck's doing all right," he said slowly. "He ain't back here with Vin's buckshot in his ass. As to Vin – well, he's probably mad as a wet hen at all of us."

Nathan grinned despite himself. He eyed the next spot for a stitch, estimating the space from the last one and then the distance left. He needed to get at least three more in, four if possible. The slash was long but only deep toward the middle. Ezra had been damned lucky, the fool. 

"I fail to understand why he's angry, also," Ezra said, his voice carrying that tone of condescension Nathan knew well. "One would think he'd appreciate my protection."

Chris took in a deep breath then let it out in a long, loud sigh. "Guess I'll go see if Buck's calmed him down enough to hear reason."

"I suspect he isn't terribly pleased about his detention, especially at Buck's hands," Ezra said, his words getting longer as his irritation – and the pain, Nathan suspected – grew. He tied off the latest stitch and worked a little quicker. The shock of the injury was wearing off, so he needed to get done as soon as possible, while it would hurt the least. 

"Nathan, Ezra gonna be all right?" Chris asked.

"Gonna take a few days for this to heal up," Nathan said, paying more attention to his sewing than his words, "and I can't speak for his damned-fool head, or the scar he's gonna have, but this ain't gonna kill him."

"None of us can speak for his damned-fool head," Chris said, "but at least he ain't gonna die 'til Vin gets a chance at him." 

The muscles of Ezra's back moved slightly and Nathan glanced up to see Ezra's head moving from one side to the other. He knew from habit that Ezra was mimicking Chris, but it was wasted as Chris had turned his back to them as he walked to the door. 

"Truly," Ezra sighed as the door closed with a thud behind Chris, "I do not understand what everyone is so upset about. I saved Vin's life, yet you'd think I'd planned to collect that bounty myself."

The thought caught Nathan unexpectedly and he froze, the needle halfway through a piercing. "You weren't, were you? You weren't working with those men - "

"Of course not," Ezra snapped, his tone hard and the words short. "In fact, I didn't even consider it – which is more a surprise to me than I suspect it is to you."

His anger was underscored by surprise and, under it, pain, a pitch that Nathan knew too well, and it prompted him to continue what he was doing. The words, though, prompted a thought of his own, a realization that surprised him. In the same way that Ezra hadn't considered trying to find a way to get to the bounty, Nathan hadn't considered that Ezra had any ulterior plan in all of this. 

Perhaps they were all learning to trust each other. 

"Is that what you think?" Ezra asked, his voice low. "Is that what you all think, that I had some other plan in mind as regards Vin? Is that why everyone is so angry?"

Nathan didn't answer at first, thinking about the questions as he finished off this stitch. Thinking about the anger behind all of this. The anger in them all. 

He tied off the stitch and sat back a little, looking at the whole of his work and the whole of the wound. It was as stitched as it was gonna get. 

"This will sting a mite," he said, reaching for the iodine. He was careful as he applied it, not wanting to cause more pain than necessary, but Ezra still shivered. 

"I did not have any motive of my own," Ezra hissed, "and I am deeply offended that you all seem to think so."

Nathan finished dressing the wound and sat back, looking at his work. It would leave a scar, no way around that, but it would heal nicely, as long as Ezra didn't do some other damned fool thing and tear a stitch before it was time. 

Some other damned fool thing. 

"You know, Ezra, it's possible that we ain't angry with you because we think poorly of you," he said slowly, letting his brain wrap around the idea. "Could be that we are worried about you."

He stared hard at the wound, the iodine making it unnaturally red, so that the dark threads stood out like knotted discolorations in the skin. They moved as Ezra's posture changed, his head tilting to one side and his back bending slightly forward. The stitches drew tight and Nathan almost said something. 

But before he could get the words out, Ezra sighed and shifted, relaxing the tension on the threads. "A pleasant sentiment, my friend, and one that I find I accept from you. But the others - "

"Why just me?" Nathan interrupted. "Given the troubles we've had, I'd think you'd be willing to part ways with me on matter like this."

Ezra turned his head as if to look over his shoulder, but the tension in his back stopped him again. Nathan got to his feet, wiping his hand on the cloth he'd had in his lap. He moved around Ezra and over to the washbasin, reaching for the soap. As he did, Ezra spoke.

"I could never argue that we've had our differences, many of which are a product of our respective past experiences. But I can also not argue that you've ever been anything but direct with me." He said it as if it meant little to him, and Nathan glanced back in time to see him try to shrug, too, until the stitches pulled again and he stopped. Ezra's face was lined, the corners of his lips and eyes drawn tight and there was a light sheen of sweat on his brow. All of that told of the pain he had been in, yet here he sat, as true to himself as always, pretending that this was nothing. 

Nathan looked back to his hands, hanging over a bowl of water. There was blood on them, not as much as there had ever been, but enough. And it was Ezra's blood. 

Maybe that was what they were all worried about, when it came down to it, whose blood was on whose hands. 

"You ever wonder what Vin would think if you'd been killed? Ever wonder how he'd feel about that?" He plunged his hands into the water, watching as a cloud of crimson slowly expanded, the color lessening the further it got from his hands. He'd always heard the insult that the brown of his skin would wash off in water, which was why his kind weren't allowed to bathe with white folk. It had bothered him until the first time he'd washed blood off his hands. He knew what color used the water to spread. 

"I assure you," Ezra said, "that it was never my intention to be killed. I had not one thought of it at all."

"Yeah, and we see where that got you," Nathan shot back, still watching the drifting swirl of pink as it drifted away from his hands. 

"I appreciate your concern, Nathan," Ezra said tiredly. "And given how angry everyone is, I assure you, I will think twice about trying to protect anyone else." 

The cloud of color in the water disappeared as Nathan brought his hands together, rubbing off the blood. He reached for a bar of soap that was close then looked over his shoulder to see Ezra struggling into his ripped and bloodied shirt. 

"Hold on now," he said, lathering his hands. "Let's get a bandage around that, to keep those stitches safe, then I can get you some willow bark for the pain."

Ezra stopped his efforts as he said, "I assure you, that will do little to ameliorate this pain. I have something far more effective back in my room."

"You still keep laudanum?" Nathan scrubbed at his hands with a rough cloth that he kept for the purpose. "Best be careful with that, don't want you to get to needing it."

"Again, I assure you, I don't like to depend on anything or anyone." This was bitter now and Nathan sighed, reaching for a dry towel. As he wiped his hands free of water, he turned toward Ezra who was  
holding his ruined purple coat. Seeing it reminded Nathan of a question he hadn't had a chance to ask in all the excitement. 

"How did you manage to convince those men that you were Vin? Ain't like the two of you look much alike. Or dress much alike." Or sound much alike or anything else when it came down to it. He reached for a set of white cotton strips that he used for bandages.

For the first time in a while, Ezra grinned. It was wide enough for his gold tooth to flash in the sunlight streaming through the window. "Men looking to make a large amount of money are willing to be convinced of anything that will help them succeed. I simply had to make them believe that Vin Tanner, a wanted man, changed his appearance in order to avoid detection. The drawing of Vin that is on the wanted poster is a fair likeness, but it is, merely, a likeness." He sat still as Nathan wound the cloth around his chest, not even complaining at the width and breadth of the wrapping.

His good humor, such a contrast to the anger, was contagious and Nathan found himself grinning as well as he worked. It was a welcome change. "Don't reckon you could out and out tell them you was Vin – so you got to be sneaky?"

Ezra's smile widened just a little more. "One of my better performances, if I do say so myself. Fortunately, being from the South, I share a few similarities in speech and expression to Mr. Tanner already. I merely made our similarities more pronounced at select moments."

Nathan shook his head but he was still grinning as he tied off the wrapping. "Maybe it worked too well?"

Ezra tilted his head to one side, thinking about Nathan's words for a few seconds. "Perhaps you're on to something. Perhaps the desire to kill me was caused by the fear that I was truly Vin Tanner and thus, would not allow myself to be carried back to Texas without a struggle." He held up his shirt with one hand, and Nathan reluctantly helped him into it. The blood along the back smudged along the white of the clean bandages. "I don't know what caused the sudden attack on my person – I admit I was reluctant to accompany my captors from the livery, but I was aware that they could kill me at any time. I had thought that my best chance at escape was to draw attention once we were outside." He held up his coat and between the two of them, they managed to get Ezra into it. Other than for the sake of propriety, it didn't serve much purpose.

Nathan reached toward the nearby table, where Ezra's hat and guns had been dropped when Chris and Buck brought him in. He held them out toward Ezra, nodding thankfully as Ezra put the little pistol and rig in one pocket of his coat then draped his gunbelt with its larger pistols over the shoulder most distant from his injury. He was still moving slowly, carefully, and his coat hung awkwardly lower on one side, the result of the long cut in the back. 

"Good thing Yosemite got worried about you with those men," Nathan said, the good humor slipping away as he realized how close it had been. If Yosemite hadn't gone looking for some of them and come across Chris and Buck, close to hand . . . 

Ezra drew a deep breath. His head was tilted down, as though he were looking at the ground, but his eyes were closed. After a few seconds, he slowly let the breath back out. "I suspect you are correct," he said very softly. "It was good that they came along when they did. Better that my jeopardy prompted them to act first and question later. There are three fewer bounty hunters walking this earth, in a search for our Mr. Tanner."

Nathan frowned, watching as Ezra straightened, opened his eyes, and turned toward the door. As he put his hand on the doorknob and turned, Nathan said, "I was thinking that it was good they got there in time to save your life, Ezra. Glad you're still with us."

Ezra slowly pulled the door open then stared out into the daylight as he put his hat carefully on his head. As he took a step forward, through the door, he said just as softly, "Thank you, Nathan."

Nathan followed, watching as Ezra made his way across the small balcony and down the stairs. He started to follow, worried about the other man, but he knew there was little he could do at this point. Instead, he stopped at the railing, looking down on the town. It was mid afternoon, the sun high and hot, the air still. A few people moved along the road way, going into and out of the shops and businesses, and a few sat in chairs scattered along the boardwalk. 

Josiah leaned inside the frame of the open door of the undertakers, his arms crossed over his broad chest. While Nathan did service to the ones who survived a battle, Josiah took care of those who didn't. In this case, his responsibility would go on a while longer than Nathan's, standing vigil while the three dead men were prepared for burial. 

Josiah nodded to Nathan but otherwise stood still. Like Nathan, he was watching Ezra make his way slowly down the street, making an effort to hold his upper body as still as possible. From this distance, it was hard to tell the difference between the purple coat and the bloody shirt under it. Neither hid the stark white of the bandage, evident in the gap between the cut edges of the clothes. 

Movement further up the way caught Nathan's attention, and he looked up to see Vin coming out of the saloon, Chris and Buck hurrying after him. Even from the distance, Nathan could tell that Vin was still angry, his long strides unusually quick for him. Buck, with longer legs, caught up fast, but Vin pushed him away with one hand as he said something that sounded like, "Leave me be, Buck." 

Ezra stopped and though Nathan wasn't quite sure how he did it, Ezra stood even straighter. One hand went to the pocket with his small pistol and Nathan took several steps toward the stairs, not liking the way of this. 

Vin was faster, coming to a stop in front of Ezra. He didn't yell, that wasn't his way; instead, he was speaking so softly that no one but Ezra could hear him. But the look of him told Nathan that 'thank you' wasn't part of what he was saying. Vin stood tall, his shoulders straight, his arms at his sides but his hands balled into fists. He'd walked so fast that his hat was off his head and hanging on his back, the leather thong taut against his throat. His long hair still swayed a little, not from any breeze but from the memory of his earlier movement. 

Chris and Buck caught up, one on each side of the Vin. Vin raised one hand and Chris reached out as if to stop it, but Vin's fist opened as he pointed a finger at Ezra. Nathan still couldn't hear what he was saying, but he saw the finger moving in and out, saw it getting ever closer to Ezra's chest. 

For his part, Ezra remained unmoving, his hand still inside the pocket of his jacket. Nathan saw his jaw moving, so he was talking, but like Vin, he was keeping his voice low. 

Then Buck said something and pushed between Ezra and Vin, forcing Vin back a few steps. Buck didn't stop there, though, as he brushed past Chris and walked away, straight toward the other side of the street. It was then that Nathan saw Mary making her way toward the men in the road, striding with the same determination that Vin had been. Buck was going to draw her off, but he wouldn't have long. 

More movement, JD trotting down the boardwalk, his hat in one hand as he looked from Buck and Mary to Chris, Ezra, and Vin, then up to Nathan. Josiah stepped forward, calling out to the younger man, but JD ignored him, dropping off the wooden walkway and onto the dusty street. 

Nathan sighed and glanced toward the stairs. Problems among the seven created problems in the town, which was the last thing they needed right now. But as he debated whether to grab up his weapons or his medical bag, he looked back to the scene below, in time to see Ezra move, as if he were going to draw. 

But it wasn't a draw. Ezra was pitching forward, his upper body curving down and toward the ground. Nathan turned, darting back inside to grab his bag but looking over his shoulder as often as he could. In glimpses, he saw Chris reach out, catching Ezra's elbow. He saw Vin's hands come up, once more in fists, but instead of striking, he caught Ezra's shoulders, balancing him. 

By the time he started down the stairs, Ezra was upright but leaning on Chris and Vin, who were on either side of him, walking him toward the saloon. JD was moving ahead of them, probably to open Ezra's room, and Josiah was off the boardwalk and walking close behind them, in case there was a need to carry Ezra .

By the time Chris and Vin wrangled Ezra through the saloon's swinging doors, Nathan caught up with them. 

"Goddammit, Ezra, you ain't even well enough for me to punch you," Vin said, though his tone was more worried than angry. 

"I am quite well," Ezra said, but the words were thin and strung tightly together. His face was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes were unfocused, as if he were drunk, and Nathan had the sense that if he hadn't been in conflict with Vin, Ezra would have already passed out. "Just let me sit for a while and I will be more than recovered enough for you to - "

"Nathan?" Chris asked. "Here or upstairs?"

"Get him to bed," Nathan said, looking past Chris and Ezra to Josiah, who nodded and quickly stepped in close, edging Chris out. "Y'all can fight this out some other time."

"Ain't gonna be no fightin'," Vin said with a sigh. "Damned fool." He shook his head and turned away, heading toward the bar and a worried Inez as Nathan followed Josiah and his charge up the stairs. 

"Nathan?" JD stood at Ezra's door, holding it open. He'd gotten the spare key from Inez and was standing guard on the open room until they got there. "He gonna be all right?"

"JD, fetch me a pitcher of water, if you don't mind," Nathan answered as Josiah carefully put Ezra on the bed. 

"No need to worry," Ezra said, his voice weaker still. "I suspect I am just overwrought with my friends' concern for my well-being." 

"Never you mind about them right now," Nathan said, looking into Ezra's eyes. They weren't fever-bright, which was good. "Let's get you out of these clothes – ain't no good to you anyway."

Between the three of them, they made short work of taking off the ruined clothes. JD returned with the water and some clean clothes Inez kept on hand, and Josiah wiped away Ezra's sweat while Nathan poured a little laudanum into a metal cup of clean water. 

As Ezra sat forward to drink it, Nathan looked at the bandage which appeared to be clean. "Don't seem to be no bleeding," he said. "You drink all of that and I'll refill the mug – reckon you just need some water to replace all that blood you lost, and some sleep."

Ezra sat still for a time, his eyes closed and his face tight and lined. Slowly, as the laudanum started to work, he relaxed. JD refilled the empty mug and Nathan pressed it back into Ezra's hand. With no complaint, Ezra sipped from it. 

"Can we do anything else?" Josiah asked softly. He had taken a post near the door and out of the way. 

"Reckon not," Nathan answered. "Go on down, tell the others he's all right."

"As if they will care," Ezra said, but his tone was stronger now. 

"They do," Josiah answered, reaching for the door. "Come on, JD, let's leave Ezra to his rest."

JD looked from Josiah to Nathan to Ezra then back to Nathan. He opened his mouth as if to argue, and Nathan said quietly, "Go on, Ezra needs to sleep now."

With a sigh, JD nodded but as he followed Josiah from the room, he turned back and said, "They care, Ezra – that's part of why Vin's so mad. He said no friend of his was gonna die for him, not today, not ever. You can ask Buck, he heard it, too."

JD pulled the door closed – or Josiah, more like – and Nathan looked over to see Ezra's eyes open, staring at the door. 

"You think he said that?" Ezra asked. "Vin, I mean, that he called me a friend?"

Nathan didn't say the first thing that came to mind, but it was an effort. After a few seconds, he let out a breath slowly and answered, "Yes, Ezra, I do. And I also believe he means it. Now, how about you finish off that water and lie down?"

It took little time for the laudanum to work its magic, and soon, Ezra was stretched out on one side, his skin still pale but not as much so. The bandages on his back were still clean of spotting, and Nathan decided there was little else for him to do. Quietly, he packed up his bag again, though he left a small vial of willow bark powder on the bedside table near the mug of water, in hopes that Ezra would use it instead of relying entirely on the laudanum. 

Downstairs, the others had gathered at a table in the back corner, as far away from the social parts of the room as possible. A bottle of whiskey sat on the table, half gone already. Nathan sat down in the one empty chair and put his bag on the floor beside him. Before he could ask, Josiah caught up the bottle and poured a measure into a glass then pushed the glass toward Nathan. As he did, Buck asked, "He gonna be all right?"

"Reckon he needs rest," Nathan said as he picked up the glass. "Lost a lot of blood, but the wound ain't that bad." He drank the whiskey, and as he swallowed, he looked to where Vin sat next to Chris, both of them partly hidden in the shadows at the corner of the room. Vin was leaning on the table, his head bowed and resting between his fingers. His hands were dirty, knuckles smudged with black from some sort of grease, and one of them was scraped. They reminded Nathan of his own hands, and he thought once more about the weight of blood and guilt. 

Maybe that was what prompted him to speak his mind on the matter. "He did what he thought was right, just like the rest of us would do. It was stupid, but then, ain't a one of us given to doing the smart thing all the time."

"Almost got hisself killed," Vin said, his voice rough. "Could have been four men dead 'cause of me this time, 'stead of just three."

"But he isn't," Nathan answered, pushing his empty glass back toward the bottle. Josiah's eyes widened in surprise, but he was quick enough in refilling the glass. "And that, too, ain't something none of the rest of us have suffered. Ain't no want of stupid heroics here."

"Hard to argue," Buck agreed, his mustache twitching a little over the grin he was trying to hide. "Guess he's more like the rest of us than we want to admit."

"Ain't that the damned truth," Nathan agreed, picking up his glass a second time. "Guess our bad habits are rubbing off on him."

Across the table, he caught a flash of white from the shadows and knew that Chris was grinning.


End file.
